lizwilliams | Gratuitous cat post

I haven't done a Sid Rep for ages. Basically, he's settled in very well. The bald patch where his poor tail used to be has grown back, so he now looks like a small black bear or a lamb. He has also grown, rather a lot. He has established a summer routine for himself: go out all night ('Bye, babe. Going out to do Cat Stuff. You wouldn't understand.'), then return for breakfast and the daily attack on the menace that is our staircase. What is it with cats killing stairs?

The Household Award for Dignity at Breakfast goes to our Rottweiler, who sits patiently waiting while the two boys, Sid and the Alsatian, run to and fro, squeaking and yelping with the Excitement of It All. Attempts to get the dog to calm down have been only partially successful. Last time I tried this, I asked the dog to sit and he promptly did so, but unfortunately on top of Sid, who was not appreciative. Sid climbs up the side of the kitchen unit like a bat in an effort to reach his dish, since I am always much too slow. ('You don't understand! STARVING! MIGHT DIE!!!')

Then he has a day of restful repose: inside the conservatory if the weather is inclement, or outside on the table or in the laundry basket if it's fine. Repeat breakfast performance for dinner and that is Sid's day, with some additional lap-sitting, bed-invading, exchange of insults with female cat, etc.

This morning, I came into the kitchen after breakfast to find a poor broken-backed mouse trundling towards Sid, who was watching with interest. Bore Sid away and asked T to finish it off, which he nobly did. Sid was initially pleased ('cuddle!') but then realisation dawned: I had a mouse! AND IT'S GONE!!!

He was locked, protesting, in another room while vile deeds were carried out and the last I saw of him this morning was of Sid heading grimly towards the outbuildings in search of another furry toy. It's possible to hate them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, that look on their faces as they realize you have taken away their bestest toy ever...hehe.

Buddy once brought me a mouse; laid it carefully at my feet as though it were made of glass. He looked so proud of himself that I swallowed the screech before it got out. He also brings me giant bugs, which is worse.

Oh, and cats not only attack staircases, they very much enjoy attacking sneakers and ankles. Oy.

By the way, I have a new genre & book-related blog you might enjoy. I try to post round-ups of recent genre reviews. It's here (http://theswivet.blogspot.com) if you feel like checking it out.

By the way, what happened to Sid's tail???

Had to be amputated! When his rescuer took him to the vet, the vet said that he's had some kind of spinal injury and the nerves to the tail were damaged. In these cases, they can get snagged up (e.g. in bramble) and are unable to free themselves, so it's better to remove the tail. So Sid is a faux Manx!

Thanks for the blog recommendation - I'll check it out.

Which makes Sid appear to be telepathically linked to Lucy but with Lucy adding "chase rodent around bedroom at 4.00am each night" (which with wooden floors is LOUD).

Lucy looks a lot like Buddy (http://www.flickr.com/photos/lagringa/69488069/). :-)

And possibly even more like Mina!

Now I'm scared.

And all of them look like Sid! (apart from tails). Be Very Afraid!

And like my poor Ombra, who lived all of ten months, the first being treated for pretty much every ailment know to cat, the rest giving me heart attacks by jumping out or from behind things claw extended. She was cross-eyed, so she also tended to fall from edges and smack into walls when running around like a mad thing, but this never stopped her. A heart weakened by childhood hardship did, peacefully in her sleep over one of my sweaters.

Sigh. And I seem to have lost her photos, alas.

Sid climbs up the side of the kitchen unit like a bat in an effort to reach his dish, since I am always much too slow. ('You don't understand! STARVING! MIGHT DIE!!!')

Mac does much the same; he's just an inch too short to hook his claws over the edge of the worktop and haul himself up, so he scrabbles frantically at the washing-machine as though this would help any. And then tries to intercept the dish halfway down, doing his very best to spill all the kibble everywhere. Etc. Baz is positively stoical by comparison.

Also, stairs? They're dead - they know they're dead, they've been told so! - but they won't lie down. So they have to be killed again. And again, and...

The other trick is scraping pathetically at the bath - big, white, plastic and similar to the other BWP thing out of which tins emerge...

Now that is just idiotic - but does make me wonder again quite what is going on in Mac's mind when he's sitting on a windowsill and starts scrabbling so furiously at the rise of the frame. Which is, as you point out, big and white and plastic...

D'you think from a cat's-eye perspective, his whole life is framed with fridges, that will surely open if he can only find the hidden switch...?

The world is filled with Mystic Portals that sometimes open to reveal food and sometimes open to reveal a human ('she has been snatched into another dimension! I MUST RESCUE HER!'). Known to humans as 'the lavatory', usually.

Yup. Both boys are keen to help, any time anyone goes to the bathroom. Bolting the door is, um, counterproductive, because then they dig up the carpet on the other side and then you can't open the door any more than they can...

Nothing like reaching for the blender in the bottom cabinet only to find a sleepy cat face looking back at you.

"You're disturbing my nap. Did you want something?"

"Actually, while you're in there, would you mind sorting through the stray lids and tossing the ones that don't fit anything?"

"ZZZZZZZZ"

There was a scattering of feathers on my kitchen floor this morning.

I can only assume that one of my Mighty Hunters got lucky.

I don't want to know. I just wish they'd take the feathers back outside with the bird.

Gratuitous cat post

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